


Happy Birthday Buffy

by Letterhead



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Banter, Birthday Fluff, Buffy didn't die, F/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, season 6 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22349203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterhead/pseuds/Letterhead
Summary: Everyone knows the Slayer's birthday is cursed, everyone except Spike. A desperate voice message has Buffy leaving her isolated and low tempo evening in to join Spike on his quest to show Buffy just how good a boyfriend he can be.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 102





	Happy Birthday Buffy

**Author's Note:**

> An indulgent ode to January birthdays (including mine) and a hope that I get my muse back in 2020.

Buffy shrugged her jacket off, hanging it by the door. Her affordable yet fashionable boots were left by the stairs, and her stake on the end table by the stack of unopened bills and junk mail. She checked the answering machine and saw a few messages, so she let them play as she unloaded her bag of birthday goodies haphazardly onto the coffee table.

_ "Happy birthday, Buffster." _ Xander's cheerful voice filled the living room.  _ "Wishing you a happy night in. Also no need to pick up Dawn from our place tomorrow morning. I can drop her off at school no problemo."  _

"Thanks, Xan," Buffy replied to an empty room. The machine went on to the next message just as Buffy was pulling the lid off of a half gallon of chocolate ice cream and scooping some out with her finger. With her foot, she pushed the play button on the DVD player and slumped down into the sofa. Before patrol, she'd put Love Actually in the player in preparation for her special night in.

_ "Buffy," _ Giles' stiff voice cut through the opening credits.  _ "I trust patrol went smoothly this evening. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday and that... I shall see you tomorrow evening." _

"Aww, thanks Giles," Buffy again said to the empty room, getting comfortable by unbuttoning her jean skirt and slipping her bra off and through the sleeve of her shirt. She was eager to tuck in her ice cream and cupcakes as well as drool at Hugh Grant for the next two hours. It was all she wanted for her birthday. A nice, relaxing night. No demon parts, no murdering ex boyfriends, just rom-coms and junk food.

The machine continued on to another message.

"More messages?" Buffy looked at the machine from the corner of her eye. "Must be Willow then." 

_ "Help, Slayer!" _ Spike's panicked voice filled the living room, and Buffy immediately lost her birthday chill.  _ "Help, there's some scaley fucker attacking at Willy's bar!" _

"Like I care," Buffy muttered, reaching for the remote to turn the volume up. She was so not dealing with Spike on her birthday. She'd been working double Double Meat Palace shifts and slaying every night. Her feet killed her and she just wanted to pig out, not deal with a pig. 

_ "I think this guy wanted to know where to find children he could eat -" _ a crash, then the message ended suddenly. 

Buffy slumped backwards with a long, suffering sigh, then turned the tv off. Her skirt got buttoned back up and her ice cream was tossed in the freezer. 

"Every year," Buffy grumbled, grabbing her keys and slipping her boots back on. Her stake was slipped back into her belt loop, and with a moments hesitation, she also grabbed a two sided axe from next to the door. Big and scaley probably needed a good decapitation, and with how ticked Buffy felt, she needed to serve one up. Preferably to a bleached vamp, but a chunky lizard demon would do. 

-

Buffy kicked in the door to Willy's with her axe poised to strike. Dozens of vamps and demons littered the bar and booths, drinking and gambling. At the far back corner booth she saw a white head and slumped out of her fighting stance, letting her axe drop to her side. Well, there didn't seem to be any mayhem happening in here, but maybe it was in the back room where Spike usually played poker. 

Spike leaned out of the booth and waved her over, and Buffy shuffled over to meet him. 

"Where's the thing?" Buffy crossed her arms, leaving the axe resting against the booth. "I was busy when I got your message and I want to get back as soon as I kill this thing." 

"Well, it..." Spike turned his head to look at her, and his typical cocky expression turned into a leer. "Letting the girls roam free today, pet?"

Buffy looked down and immediately realized her mistake. Her bra was still hanging over the arm rest of the sofa where she'd left it. Tugging her jacket closed, she scowled down at Spike and kicked him in the shin. His yelp of pain was satisfying.

"Like I said, I was busy," she bit out. "Where is the damn demon, Spike?" 

"Right here, love," Spike licked his lips, sliding a hand down his chest suggestively. When that did nothing but garner an eye roll from Buffy, Spike motioned for her to sit down and his mirth seemed to cool. 

Against her better judgement, Buffy sat down across from Spike. 

"What, did you kill it before I got here?" Buffy asked petulantly. "You get me off my birthday butt to come slay and there isn't anything to slay?"

"Wasn't exactly anything to slay to begin with," Spike replied hesitantly. "I, well, I needed a reason to get you out here." 

And there was that better judgement, saying 'I told you so.' 

"You are so dead," Buffy muttered, moving to stand up. "What could you possibly have wanted from me, tonight of all nights?"

Spike anxiously smoothed back his hair and looked over Buffy's shoulder, refusing to make eye contact.

"Well, when the bit told me you were staying home in your jammies and watching chick-flicks all by your lonesome, I figured... I figured you could use some company." 

That was about the moment Willy came over with a big albeit nervous smile, arms ladened with a large and lopsided pink birthday cake. 

"Oh god, Spike, no..." Buffy put her head in her hands, slumping into the corner of the booth. 

"Oh god, Buffy, yes." Spike's eyes danced with wicked humor.

Willy placed the cake on the table between them, the three mismatched candles already lit and dripping wax onto the icing. In a white hasty scrawl of icing on top, it read "Happy B-Day Slayer". Along side the pink confectionary nightmare were two tumblers of what looked like whisky. Well, at least she could have a drink before running home.

"Thank..." Buffy began, but not before Willy, Spike, and half the occupants of the bar began singing the birthday song.

_ Singing .  _

Buffy hid her mortification behind her thankfully rather full glass of alcohol, taking small sips as the discordant singing gave her flashbacks to her awkward and horrible 7th birthday at La Tolteca when she was forced to wear a sombrero. 

"Happy birthday dear Slayer!" Spike's voice rang clear yet was clearing mocking her and much louder than the rest. 

"And many more!" Willy happily added at the end. 

"I don't hope that," some brackish demon disagreed from three booths away. 

"Yeah, me either actually," Buffy murmured, hiding behind her hands. 

"Aw, pet, bit nervous about the spotlight?" Spike smirked.

"You _ass_. No one likes being sang happy birthday to!" She seethed. "I was promised big demon decapitation and all I get is this..." She waved down at the cake, watching in horror as the icing seemed to  sweat . "This monstrosity. I can't slay this."

"Don't insult Willy's baking, he might hear you," Spike retorted with clear amusement.

"Willy made this?" Buffy looked incredulously over the weirdly misshapen cake. "I'm so not eating that."

Spike seemed to give that a moment of thought. "Well, alright, that's fair, but at least blow out the candles." 

Buffy rolled her eyes and hastily blew them out, immediately pushing the plate full of lumpy cake away. 

"What'd'ya wish for, Slayer?" Spike asked before taking a drink of his own whisky.

"A very small dustpan to collect your remains," she retorted with a small smirk. Her smirk died quickly as she continued. "And maybe a birthday that for once isn't cursed." 

"Pah," Spike chuckled, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his duster and tapping it on the booth table. "Cursed? Tell me another one, pet, that's funny." 

"It's true! I found out I was the slayer on one, you sent the Judge after me on another, and, well, Angelus..." Buffy winced, and Spike growled low in his throat. "Then there was the Cruciamentum."

"Bloody hell, they put you through that?" Spike lit a cigarette and took a long drag with a scowl. "Wankers." 

"Yeah." Buffy nodded. "And this year I got tricked into coming to a grody demon bar!" She added frostily, picking her foot off the floor just to demonstrate how it stuck slightly. Eugh.

"Well, if Willy's ain't enough for your snooty arse, we could..." Spike paused to anxiously take another drag of his cigarette. "We could go someplace else."

"Like the Bronze?" Buffy shook her head. "No way. I go there every Friday with the gang and honestly, I'm sick of it. I just want to go back home and curl up on the sofa." 

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy..." Spike tsked, blowing a stream of smoke in her general direction. "When will you learn? There are a dozen half-decent clubs and bars in this hell hole of a town. You just need to know where to look." He then winked for effect. 

"Prove it." Buffy stood, her brows furrowed as she came to a decision. 

"Come again?" Spike's cigarette hung comically from his lips. 

"Show me these half-decent bars, Spike. If I'm going to be out on my birthday then it better be in a nicer place than this dump." Buffy frowned, then looked over her shoulder at Willy. "No offense, Willy." 

"None taken," Willy hummed from behind the bar. "This place is a real shithole."

"You serious, Slayer?" Spike asked slack jawed. Pleasantly surprised was a good look on Spike, she thought, although it wasn't her place to put that look on his face at all. A grimace of pain was more up her alley.

Buffy tapped her foot impatiently. "I'm waiting." 

Spike jumped out of the booth, grabbing his duster and slinging it on as he reached for her hand. "No time to waste then."

A few demons in the bar tipped their hats or nodded to them as they left, some murmuring happy birthday under their breath. It was surreal, the whole thing was. Spike, the cake, this... this proposition to go bar hopping. So surreal, but exciting in a way life hadn't been for a while. Sure, clubbing with the bleached menace wasn't all that thrilling, but it beat the monotony that had been Buffy's life since defeating Glory. Say what you want about that lopsided hell bitch, but at least she made things mildly interesting. Since then, there had been nothing major in Sunnydale and it was making Buffy... itchy, anxious, on edge. Her patrols were vigilant and tense, but nothing more than a few fledglings ever showed. She stayed wary every Bronze visit despite the biggest danger there being cocky freshmen. And now, Buffy's birthday, a day she had come to know and hate as a singular day of pain and misery. She'd patrolled with double the enthusiasm and paranoia as usual, but still no dice, and had assured her own fears by making certain all her friends and family were as far from her as possible in their little town. You know, in case she turned into some creature or a demon portal decided to open up beneath her feet. All in all, despite her snarking, being bugged by Spike was a pleasant surprise. 

They'd been walking along the quiet Sunnydale streets for a moment before Buffy realized Spike hadn't said a thing since they began. It felt weird, not having him yacking constantly. 

"Where the hell are you taking me?" Buffy blurted out, wincing at the unintentional rudeness. She only wanted to sound mildly rude, not bitchy.

"Hmm," Spike murmured, waking steadily by her left side as he always did. It struck Buffy as funny that she'd known Spike as a kind of ally long enough for him to have a usual side next to her. Was that weird? Well, weird was her normal.

"Hmm?" she grumbled. "Come on, I am so snacky and bored and..." Buffy looked down at her clothes and scrunched her brows. She was wearing a denim skirt and shirt (sans bra, she cringed) and sensible boots, but she wasn't dressed for a club. "Am I going to need to stop by home and change my clothes?" 

"What?" Spike broke out of his thoughts, looking her over. His eyes lingered here and there and made Buffy squirm as annoyance built. "No, you daft girl, you don't need to change your clothes." 

"But..." Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth, dozens of outfits swimming through her brain. "Clubbing?"

"Oh no no, Slayer. Not gonna happen. You're gonna take one look at your sofa and your little dragon horde of snacks and girly magazines and say sayonara to coming with yours truly," he scowled down at her, a strand breaking free from that ridiculously gelled hair of his and falling in his face. "You're just gonna have to be content with what you got on." 

"Well, I am pretty hungry..." She imagined the aforementioned pile of snacks and her stomach gave a faint grumble. "I want my birthday snacks."

"You are such a whiny little bird on your birthday, pet," Spike chuckled openly. "It's like you age backwards."

"Ugh, I want a cinnamon Pop-Tart so bad," Buffy bemoaned, ignoring Spike's comment and instead rubbing her stomach theatrically. 

"Skip breakfast?" Spike tutted. "You aren't eating enough, love. You're about to waste away."

"What are you, my mother?" Buffy shot back, her face falling a second after her words hit the air. 

"Buffy..." Spike uttered softly. 

They continued walking in silence for a few blocks before Buffy replied.

"Cinnamon Pop-Tarts are my favorite. My mom would always make two of them in the toaster and serve it with a cold glass of milk on my birthday," Buffy explained, her eyes becoming faintly glassy as she reminisced. "I guess my subconscious was like, hey, remember? Tra... tradition." Her voice cracked, and she tried coughing away her emotions. She did not need to lose herself to memories on the street in front of Spike. She didn't even feel hungry anymore. Amazing how grief could do that.

"I'm sorry, pet," Spike offered solemnly.

"Don't be," Buffy replied tersely. 

Spike walked by her side pensively, barely making a sound. They passed by a Quick Mart and Spike made to stop, holding his hand out. 

"I... I need to buy another pack of smokes," he said cagily. "You stay here." 

Buffy rolled her eyes, wiping away the last vestiges of her minor break down on her jacket sleeve. "Sure, whatever, but make sure you actually pay for them." 

"Ha bloody ha." Spike stuck his tongue out at her briefly before disappearing into the convenience store. 

He returned to her side before she had time to think about what she was getting herself into with him.

They began walking again, turning in the direction of the Bronze but more towards the water. Is this where all the clubs and bars were? No wonder she'd never seen them, she never came out here for anything. 

Spike slipped the plastic off his new pack of cigarettes and slid them into his duster's inner pocket. Buffy frowned at it, she wished he wouldn't smoke so much. At least he was already dead, but hello, hadn't he heard of second hand smoke?

His duster crinkled suspiciously.Buffy's frown turned into a scowl.

"Hey," Buffy called out, reaching out to pat the front of Spike's duster. "What's that?"

"Watch it!" Spike backed away, side stepping Buffy. "It's cigarettes."

"Cigarettes don't make noises," Buffy shot back. "Did you steal something and put it in your jacket? Let me see!" Buffy rounded on him and quickly flicked his jacket open, unveiling his tight black shirt and a silver plastic packet hidden within his inner pocket. 

"I..." Spike stuttered awkwardly. 

"What are these?" Buffy asked, reaching for the packet. Slowly, she pulled out a plastic wrapped rectangle that instantly felt familiar in her hands. "Pop-Tarts?" she murmured incredulously, her voice an octave higher as she processed what the hell this all meant.

"Was gonna give you them later, when we weren't walking down the bloody street..." Spike muttered, pulling his coat back closed. "An' I did pay for it, so don't get your knickers all twisted up your righteous arse." 

"You..." she stuttered, holding the package of Pop-Tarts as she considered what to say. You have money? Why are you so thoughtful? What am I missing here? Buffy could only look away to hide her confusion, then unwrapped the package and took a Pop-Tart out. "Thanks," she finally settled on, biting into her meal replacement to curb herself from saying anything further. 

The cinnamon flavor hit her tongue and Buffy felt a momentary lapse in all sanity. She hadn't eaten them in years, not since she was still a fresh faced freshman and wanted mom to pack her school lunches. Not since everything had been happy and normal. And Spike, she spied over her nibbles, was giving her such a weird look that she couldn't place. It all seemed too weird, too incomprehensible, so she did the one thing she knew was right. 

Buffy ate her Pop-Tart.

"Welcome," Spike replied curtly, looking off to the water some ways away. "Can't have the Slayer fly away in a stiff breeze, now can we?" 

His jibe was familiar in its friendly yet caustic delivery, and it relieved Buffy more than she realized it could. Normalcy. That was nice. 

"Ass," she replied almost fondly, wiping a crumb from her mouth. 

After her snack had been eaten and the wrapper disposed of, they both finally came upon a string of nightclubs and bars all together in one, long strip mall sort of building by the water. The one among them that Spike stopped before was not at all the choice she would have pictured him making. It made Buffy recoil and look back at him in complete bafflement. Every time Buffy thought she knew Spike, he always did something like... 

"A country bar? Are you kidding me?" Buffy looked up at the sign, bewildered. A neon cowgirl in pigtails rode a bucking bronco on the sign for the Texas Star Bar.

"What were you expecting, Slayer, Club Sky or some shite? This ain't LA, this is Sunnyhell. Be glad I didn't take you to that vampire fetish club." 

"God, gross, is that thing still open?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Afraid so," Spike replied with a half smile, half grimace. "Though luckily it seems they've moved away from actual vampire worshiping to more normal things, like bondage gear." 

"Since when is that more normal than vampires?" Buffy replied with a disgusted frown, shifting on her feet with discomfort. 

"Yeah, pet," Spike chuckled. "You're the only 20 something girl who thinks real vampires are more normal than a little S&M." 

"Oh my _god_ , stop talking about it before I retch." She turned away from Spike before he could see her blush red. Why did he always have to air out every weird and salacious topic he knew of in her presence?

"Could be fun," Spike leered. "I bet you'd get your rocks off just fine, and I've been told once or twice I look quite nice in a collar." 

Buffy found her eyes gravitating forwards Spike's neck of their own accord before she could stop herself. His gratified smirk made her want to pummel him. 

"Pig," she scowled.

"Oink, oink, pet," he replied with familiarity. They'd done this before, so so many times. It almost felt nostalgic. 

Buffy looked back up at the stupid sign and shrugged. "I guess we should go in?" 

"What, still nervous pet? It's only a bar," Spike laughed, grabbing for his cigarettes.

"Come on, jackass," she muttered, grabbing his arm and flicking his unlit cigarette onto the wet pavement. "I didn't agree to come with you so I could slowly die from second hand smoke and boredom." 

The sudden push through the double doors swallowed Spike's retort. The music and the chatter and laughter had Buffy stopping and swaying, feeling kind of shell shocked by the whole place. She gripped Spike's upper arm still as she gazed around.

So many people dressed in denim and leather, in plaid and bright smiles as loud, twangy music filled the place. It was a shock to see the SoCal faces in these getups, but Buffy supposed there was a kind of charm to it all. Life on the coast was nothing like the south, so it was fun to pretend now and then. A football game played on a large screen towards the back, and Buffy realized then that it felt different to the Bronze and the campus bar because there were actual adults here. Not desperate teens or college dudes; people who looked like in their day lives they were sensible and normal, but at night they liked to play beer pong and... Buffy gulped, eyes finally landing on a large mechanical bull in the center of the bar. A huge dude in cutoff shorts and cowboy boots had just been bucked off the thing and landed right on his face in the ring. The small crowd around it cheered and laughed, and Buffy couldn't help but smile at it all. 

"See anything that tickles you're fancy, pet?" 

"There will be no tickling," Buffy mumbled as if on autopilot, still looking at the bull. She kind of wanted to... But it was silly, stupid. "Yeah, the bar." 

"Fancy a drink, then?" Spike sidled up to the bar as Buffy slowly let go of the grip she'd had on his arm. Immediately upon leaving Buffy's side, Spike was getting looks from women and men all around, some more appreciative than others. Buffy quickened her step on instinct, making sure to keep up with his stride. The last thing she needed was some southern wannabe hobag convincing Spike to abandon her out in the middle of the shitty part of Sunnydale. 

Leaning against the bar, Spike shot her one of those illegal looking sensual grins that had her blood boiling and her heart doing weirdness in her chest. "Pick your poison, love." 

"I dunno," Buffy murmured, looking at all the complicated draft stuff and the bottles of beer on every surface. "I don't usually drink beer." 

"Don't need beer," he replied casually, turning to the bartender. "Bourbon for me, jack and Coke for the lady." Buffy wanted to correct him, she hadn't had anything but sugar free diet since middle school, but Spike was shockingly way ahead of her. "Wait, actually make that a jack and Diet Coke."

"How do you know I'll like that?" Buffy asked cautiously, sliding up onto a barstool shaped like a small wagon wheel. Charming or tacky? She wasn't sure.

"Don't rightly know, but I figure you like the sweet stuff so you might not mind it with a little nip of something in there." 

"Mmm," she hummed as she sipped through the cocktail straw. 

"Easy there, that's hard liquor in there," Spike forwarded with an indulgent smile. 

"I can handle it," Buffy pouted. 

Spike grabbed his glass and looked around, his gaze settling on an area with pool tables and dart boards. "Up for a game of darts?"

"Uh, sure?" Buffy took another sip of her drink. Why did she ever try beer when you could get tipsy with her favorite drink? "I've never played." 

"Never played? Aw pet, you'll be a natural." Spike led her over to the dark board and collected darts for both of them. "All that hand eye coordination and... dexterity." He leered at her. 

"Ugh." She snatched the darts from him, lined one up like she did with her crossbow during target practice and just... threw it.

It went a foot to the right of the board, the force behind it so strong that it embedded itself into the wall. 

"I think you slayed the wood paneling, pet," Spike chuckled. 

"Shut up!" Buffy growled, dropping the rest of the darts down as if burned.

"Your girlfriend know how dangerous these things are?" A guy with a beard and a ten gallon hat asked Spike, who just laughed in reply. 

"She tends to like dangerous things," he replied conversationally, leaving Buffy seething at his side. "An' I'm no good at darts either." 

Buffy had to stop herself from correcting him. She knew he was amazing at darts, and pool, and any other games they had in bars. 

"Naw, I bet you're fine," the guy picked up the other set of darts. "Game?" 

"Sure." And Spike proceeded to play the worst game of darts she'd ever seen, even perhaps worse than tossing one through the building. He hit wide every time, one even whiffing and hitting the floor in front of the board. The other guy mopped the floor with him. 

What was Spike's game? Buffy sat back and watched, sipping her jack and Coke while it unfolded. 

"Tough luck," Spike commented morosely. 

"Maybe you'll do better if there's a wager," the other guy offered, slapping a twenty on the low table near the board. 

"I dunno..." Spike waffled,turning and giving Buffy a wink. A wink? Was he... 

"Well why not?" He slipped a twenty from his back pocket and placed it with the first one, then collected his darts. 

The game truly began then. Spike's shots were dead accurate, and he took his time making sure of it. The guy Spike played against knew he was a goner almost as soon as the blonde hit the bullseye with his second dart. 

And Spike pocketed an extra twenty smackaroonies, just like that. 

"Is this what you do for cash?" Buffy asked him in a hurried whisper. "Hustle cocky guys at bars?" 

"Smart girl." He smirked, folding the bills and putting them back in his jeans pocket. "That an' poker." Spike then turned and addressed the small corner of the bar at large. 

"Anyone wanna beat me at darts? I got 50 bucks says you can't." 

She couldn't believe him. 

A few guys, cocky and drunk came up to challenge him and thus began the 'Spike takes candy from a baby' part of the show. Buffy went back to the bar twice for more drinks as he continually bested would be dart masters and took all their cash. Spike was cool and cocky, and Buffy kind of wished she was good at darts, or pool, or something fun she could use to take her mind off things. 

And that bull kept drawing her eye. Every ten minutes or so and another person would get their face smashed in to the padded floor or their ass dropped by that thing and even though it was silly, it kept looking more and more fun. 

She wanted to do it... but, it was better to keep an eye on Spike, right?

"Sure you just wanna watch me play, pet?" Spike asked her in-between his rounds. 

"Uh, yeah, it's fine." She nodded down to her third drink. "Got my soda, I'm good." 

"Right." Spike narrowed his eyes at her, but continued at darts. By her counting he'd won a cool hundred and forty  dollars by now and was almost about to win forty more. 

Buffy glanced back at the bull. 

"For the love of god, Slayer, just go astride that bull already!" Spike tossed the dart at the board and turned in a righteous huff. "Bloody hell, you're practically vibrating next to me. Just take this..." He fished out a five dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her. "An' go play." 

"But..." Buffy stared down at the crumpled bill. Should she be accepting so much of Spike's cash? She supposed it was only fair considering how many times he'd taken Giles' money, but... Spike didn't work a nine to five, and it wasn't like he truly owed her anything. 

It's not like he was her boyfriend or something. He didn't have to act so... so chivalrous. 

"The only butt is the one you're gonna sit on that contraption," Spike cut her off jovially, turning her and pushing her towards the bull ring. "Let me finish hustlin' these blokes and go have a good time, Buffy. I'll be sure to watch you from here." 

Buffy nodded hesitantly then made her way over to the pen. A woman a little younger than her mom had just gotten booted off the metal bull seconds after being placed on it and the crowd was laughing it up at her. The woman took it all with a smile and slipped out of the ring. 

The placard next to the bar employee read "Record holder: Marty George - 3:21. 5$ a ride."

"You lookin' tah ride the metal bull, lil' missy?" The employee asked once he spotted her loitering. Buffy cringed and looked back to Spike only to see him giving her a thumbs up from across the bar. 

"Uh... yeah, sure." Buffy thrust the bill towards him. 

He made a show of inspecting it like an old western man then pocketed it. "I reckon that'll do ya." The employee lost their accent as they went on to the safety instructions. "Hold on tightly and try not to break your fall with your arms. The whole area is padded and you'll be fine to fall on it." 

" _Right_." She rolled her eyes. This was seeming less exciting by the minute. 

He motioned her in the ring and brought out a little step stool for her to climb up on the thing. Once astride, Buffy felt a little more comfortable. Sure, her skirt was riding up a bit and there were now a few people waiting and watching for her fall, but it kind of felt like sitting on the shoulders of a big demon as she waited for the right moment to snap its neck. 

The employee began a countdown. Buffy gripped the strap thing on the saddle and winced as the metal beneath bent. Oops. 

Her heart pounded as the crowd joined in on counting her down. Spike was counting as well, smiling that obnoxiously boyish smile that only seemed to appear when he was mocking her. 

As the rowdy crowd called out one, Buffy felt the metal beast lurch suddenly and fall forward and she held on tightly with her thighs. It's movements began to speed up until all Buffy saw around her was a blur of colors and shapes. Her hair had come loose from her hair band and was flying around her and god, she was smiling! People were cheering and hooting and she was living for the moment as she rode the freaking bull. The sound of the bar got louder as she kept holding on, until eventually the big timer above the bar ran to 00:00 and the bull came to a slow stop. A bell chimed like st the end of a boxing match and people were clapping, and Buffy was still smiling so hard that her cheeks hurt. Had she won something? How long had she actually been on that thing? 

"Congrats on your win little lady! You're the first one to last that long!" The employee clapped her on the back. 

"I won something?" Buffy asked incredulously, yanking down her skirt and smoothing it over. 

"Sure thing! Let me just go get your prize. Your next round is on the house!" 

"Seriously?" Buffy gaped, and watched as the employee went behind the bar. Oh my god, she'd won something!

Buffy ran back over to where Spike was waiting for her.

"I won, I won!" Buffy jumped up and down, throwing her arms around Spike and beaming. Spike couldn't help but smile back, luxuriating in the happiness that radiated out from the Slayer. 

"What exactly did you win?" Spike asked indulgently. 

"I... don't know?" Buffy cocked her head. "But I know I won. They said no one has ever stayed on it for more than four minutes and I made it five. I bet that's worth a glass of champagne or something cool." 

"Well I'm sure none of their contenders had thighs of steel like yours, pet." 

"Like you would know, Spike." 

"I do know!" Spike insisted as he drew them both towards the bar. "You've put me in headlocks between those thighs before, just not for pleasant reasons." He seemed to zone out with an odd expression. "I bet you could crush someone's head between 'em." 

"Ew, Spike, don't be weird." Buffy blushed, feeling oddly complimented even more oddly not disgusted. 

"Mam," someone cut in from behind them. Buffy turned and was surprised to see the employee from the bar holding out a cowboy hat, the decorative band boasting a large brass buckle that read 'Lone Star Bronco Hero'.

"Your winnings!" 

Buffy took it and triumphantly put it on her head and looked over to Spike. 

"How do I look?" Buffy asked with a smile, running her fingers over the brim with a flourished flick. 

Spike wolf whisked. "Annie get your gun," he snickered. "You look adorable, pet." 

"Let's get my celebratory drink!" 

The went back to the bar and got her last drink, and Spike clinked his glass with hers for good measure. 

"I'm tipsy," Buffy admitted with a giggle. She hadn't been this relaxed and happy in a while. It felt so weird. 

Spike snickered and tipped his glass towards her, spilling a little. "'M about there myself." 

"This is a good day," Buffy blurted, then hid behind the brim of her ridiculous hat. "So far. 

"Oh yeah?" Spike smiled softly, hiding behind his own glass. What were they doing? Flirting? 

Buffy's eyes widened suddenly. Had they always been flirting?

"If Willy's pink nightmare wasn't up to snuff, then what's your typical birthday fare?" 

"My what?" Buffy frowned, still thinking about flirting with Spike.

"Birthday cake, love. What kind of cake do you like?" 

"Oh," Buffy sighed. "Is this going to be another one of your... your pull it out your butt to make Buffy happy things that you've been doing all night? Because you really don't have to do that." 

"Who says I don't already wanna do it? If I'm making you happy then I'm doing something right," Spike explained. "For once," he added under his breath, but Buffy had heard him just fine.

"Ice cream cake," she finally answered him. "But it's past midnight and I don't think there's a Baskin Robins or whatever in Sunnydale, and I don't think the grocery store is open." 

Spike smiled slowly. "Ye of little faith, Slayer. Come on, let's jet." 

-

Buffy followed Spike all the way to downtown and into a shady looking ice cream parlor and looked around. Two women were eating pistachio ice cream cones in a corner, and Buffy instantly could tell they were vampires. The moment she walked in the two of them stoood and left, but not before snagging a few extra napkins. 

Weird.

Behind the large counter stood a purple skinned half-breed with horns and horn rimmed glasses, an ice cream scoop in his hand. 

"Evenin' Spike, what'll it be?" he asked jovially, and Buffy could only turn and stare at Spike. 

"You come here a lot?" she asked incredulously.

"I like a good frozen custard," Spike defended himself. "An'... and I've brought the Bit here a few times. Beats sitting in my crypt." He was giving her that look, like a puppy saying 'please don't be mad, I've been good'. Part of her wanted to get mad. What right did Spike have to take Dawn anywhere? But Buffy knew the truth. He was so ingrained in her life, in Dawn's life, especially since her mom had passed away. Despite their issues, Spike's presence had even a blessing during those months when Dawn didn't know how to handle the kind of grief that came from death. He'd been a really good surrogate brother to Dawn. 

He'd be a good boyfriend, too , Buffy thought, and this time she couldn't shake it away. It lingered and sat there center stage, daring her to look away, but she couldn't. He would be a good boyfriend. Hadn't he been one all night long?

Buffy chose to smile, patting Spike on the arm softly. "She does love rocky road, huh?"

"She's a bottomless pit, that girl," Spike agreed, his eyes searching her face. 

The guy behind the counter cleared his throat. 

"Uh yeah, mate," Spike coughed. "You happen to have any ice cream... cakes? The Slayer here fancies one on her birthday." 

"Do we have ice cream cakes? What do you think we are, sheesh." The half-demon shook his head, then looked at Buffy. "The name?"

"Buffy," she offered up.

"Shape? We got rectangle, circle, soccer ball, unicorn, race car and ballerina." 

"Unicorn!" Buffy replied instantly. 

"Unicorn ice cream cake for Buffy's birthday, order up!" He called to the back, tapping a little bell. 

They sat on plastic chairs waiting for the cake and stared at anything but each other. Buffy still felt a little tipsy, but not nearly as much as when she'd been riding that bull. Oh god, Buffy looked up and saw the brim of her hat. She was still wearing it. God, was that why those people on the road had been staring at her? Awkward. 

"So..." Spike murmured, patting his jacket pocket where he kept his cigarettes but not reaching for them. "After this you... you gonna head home and do your own thing?"

"You're not coming?" Buffy turned quickly to look at him. "But you bought me a cake." 

"I didn't buy it for me, pet. Figured you'd take it home and share with the Bit tomorrow or something." 

"But... " Buffy bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. Did he want to get rid of her finally? We'll she didn't want to get rid of him. 

What a scary realization, but nonetheless true. 

"But you need to carry the cake home, Spike," Buffy responded mock-sternly. 

"Do I now?" Spike's anxious frown was gone, and he seemed pleased. 

"I hope you don't mind watching Love Actually with me when we get there. I was kind of in the middle of it when I got your message." 

"Bloody hell, do we have to? Can't we rent a half decent movie?" 

"But I like Hugh Grant and I love romances," Buffy pouted. "And it's my birthday."

"Sure it is, pet, but I'm sure we could find a better film at the movie rental place." 

"Order up!" was shouted from the counter. Spike stood quickly and grabbed the bag holding her boxed up ice cream cake. Spike looked at her and held out his hand. 

"Lets go get the birthday girl another movie, shall we?"

"Okay, fine," she agreed. She didn't care what movie they chose so long as they hurried along. 

She was getting the disconcerting yet ever growing desire to kiss him. 

-

"How about Sleepless in Seattle?" Buffy held up the VHS above the rack. Spike replied by laughing uncharitably and snatching it from her. 

"If you wanna watch this pet, then I can only recommend we pick up An Affair to Remember instead." 

"Affair?" Buffy rinkled her nose. "I don't really think cheating romance is up my alley."

"Then this one won't do either, I'd wager." Spike put it back on the rack in the wrong section with a smirk, then pulled off Notting Hill. "Didn't you say you fancy that Hugh Grant bloke?" 

"Oh, love him!" she nearly giggled. She'd almost forgotten about her date with Hugh, but Buffy supposed she had traded up in the romantic Brit department.

"Bit poncy if you ask me..." he mumbled to himself, though Buffy could practically see the green waves of jealousy wafting from his side of the rack. 

"Well, I think he's thoughtful, romantic, sexy, not to mention British," she said with a smile. "The only thing he's missing are martial arts skills." Buffy turned to join him and came face first with his concerned expression.

"Do... do you fancy your Watcher?" Spike asked gravely.

Buffy shook her head and rolled her eyes, placing a comforting hand on the front of his chest. "You are such an idiot, huh?" 

"Well forgive a bloke when he's two sheets to the wind and a bit dazed that the girl's still with him at midnight and hasn't run off yet." 

"What's that? Notting Hill? I've never seen it," she diverted casually.

"It's good, but the main bird doesn't deserve ol'Hugh," Spike replied softly, his brows scrunched as if he was sorting out some great puzzle.

"Guess we'll see," Buffy replied cheekily. "Lets rent it and get out of here before that ice cream cake melts." 

Back at Revello Drive, Spike came in behind her without fuss, though he seemed to marvel a bit at his invitationless entry. Jeez, did he expect to get disinvited every time they had an argument? She'd lose a fortune in magical ingredients if she did that. They were always fighting, and luckily they were always making up. 

"Just put the cake on the coffee table," she told him, hanging her coat by the door. As it hit the hook, she remembered her bra hanging from the sofa arm and cringed. She went into the living room after Spike to find him not staring at her unmentionables, but at the mantle. At the little line up of framed photographs her mother had always kept there. He was gazing at one in particular, of the entire gang eating pizza. Spike was in the top corner of the photo looking dazed as her mom had just forced him to be a part of it all. 

Buffy reached his side and stood by him, feeling connected. Sometimes she forgot that he missed her mom too. He had grieved too. 

That strand of his hair that had been falling loose all night was in his eyes now, and Buffy couldn't help herself. Buffy reached up and brushed it from his forehead, moving in closer to him than she'd been in a long while and had the sudden and irresistible urge to kiss him. She was looking at his lips, happiness from their evening out piling up and snuffing out the negative voice in her head telling her it was wrong. How could it be wrong to feel this happy? 

"Pet?" Spike looked over at her anxiously. 

Buffy's only reply was to softly press her lips against his, her fingers that had attempted to fix his hair now totally messing it up. Spike reached for her and held her close, moaning in surprise as she kissed him. They'd shared kisses before, magic induced liplocks that felt good but didn't mean anything, but this... This was real. This was Buffy and what she wanted. 

She dragged her lips away before she could get swept too up in it. Buffy still wanted her cake and her movie and wasn't entirely sure what she wanted from Spike in that way yet, or if she was ready for it at all.

"I'll just go get some bowls for the cake." Buffy turned and went into the kitchen. She spent a good while deciding on whether to grab them spoons or forks as she calmed down and processed that she'd actually kissed Spike. Lips of Spike! And it had been so yummy and exactly what she'd wanted. Frighteningly, it made her want more. 

She chose spoons. 

When she returned, Spike had already opened the ice cream cake but did not look nearly as happy as she'd left him. 

Spike was half bent over the cake, muttering under his breath and scraping his pinky over the frosting. 

"Bloody hell, wankers..." 

"Spike, what's wrong? Why are you desecrating my cake?" Buffy called from the doorway. 

"Bloody morons misspelt your name. I'm... let me try and fix it." 

Buffy sidled up to him and nearly choked when she saw 'Happy Birthday Buddy' on top of the unicorn ice cream cake. Spike's finger was moving around the icing to no avail, he was only making it unintelligible instead of correcting the letters. 

"Stop, idiot." Buffy reached in and grabbed Spikes hand, holding it up between them. She felt Spike tense as she grasped his icing covered hand, and for a heavy moment she didn't know what to do. Something was coming over her, something that had been building over the course of the night. Could you actually go from loathing someone to liking them in only four hours? Because at that moment, holding his hand, watching as his expression evolved from frustration to confusion to hope... Buffy felt hope too. No, maybe she hadn't even loathed Spike lately, but she certainly hadn't felt like this. 

Buffy wanted him. Not just his lips, or his voice, or any one thing. She wanted all of him. 

"Slayer?" Spike's voice a choked whisper. 

"Don't waste icing," she remarked softly, bringing his finger to her lips and gently licking the sweetness off. As Spike's eyes darkened with lust, Buffy knew her decision had been made. She knew, above all else, what she wanted for her birthday. 

"What do you want, Buffy?" he asked her roughly, still but tense like a caged animal. "You know I'll give you anything." 

She knew, god she knew he would. It was dizzying. 

"The only other thing I want today is you, Spike," Buffy whispered fervently, barely believing her own voice. She sounded sensual and certain in a way she never had before.

Spike gasped roughly, inhaling unneeded air as he processed what she said. He radiated desperation and desire and seemed to love being needed. Buffy was beginning to warm up to the idea of needing him. 

"I need you to touch me, Spike." Buffy pushed off his duster, letting it pool on the ground around them. Spike nearly purred, running his hands down her back, her arms, then up here sides. 

"Want me to touch you here, pet? You've been bloody distracting all night." Spike cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples. Buffy gasped, frissons of pleasure streaking down to her core. 

"Lower," she pleaded, her fingers tensing in the fabric of his shirt. 

Spike's hands dipped lower, his thumbs hooking in the waistband of her jeans.

"Here?" He smirked coyly. Buffy didn't want coy, she wanted him now. 

Buffy grabbed his wrist and forced his hand lower, under the hem of her skirt and onto her center. "Here, you jerk!" 

"This what you need?" Spike rumbled against her temple, fingering the sodden gusset of her cotton panties. God, she wished she'd put on nicer panties but... 

"Fuck!" Buffy exclaimed, her head lolling forward against his shoulder as he worked his finger under the cotton and onto her heated flesh. Spike's finger swept down to her center and plunged in slowly, the ring on his thumb dragging lazily down her clit. Buffy swore she saw stars as her eyelids fluttered shut and her lips opened in rapture. 

"That's it, love, now give me that voice," he continued goading her lovingly, his voice a hot caress in her ear. He was fucking her slowly with his finger, putting pressure in just the right places as his thumb got to work rubbing her over sensitive clitoris. Every movement sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating out from her core, and god -

"Oh my _god_ , I'm _actually_ about to - to come!"

"You sound surprised," Spike chuckled lowly. 

"I - shit! I am surpr - ah!" Buffy' words were overtaken by a keen as she tumbled over the edge. Spike was hitting that spot inside her that her past boyfriend had pretended was a mystery, but holy God, Spike found it just fine. She was shaking, her legs buckling beneath her as she clenched around his fingers in waves of bliss. 

"God you're squeezing me fucking tight, love!" Spike's hand stilled as she floated down, his arm wrapping around her for support. Buffy felt loopy and dazed, her lips curling into a satisfied smile.

"Happy birthday to me," Buffy sing-songed, wrapping herself around Spike once she felt she could stand.

"Then why does it feel like it's my bloody birthday?" Spike groaned as Buffy sank blunt teeth into his neck. "An' Christmas and bloody Boxing Day, Christ  _ Buffy _ ...!" 

Buffy pushed him to the couch, giving him one last heated kiss before she began to undress herself. Spike's eyes widened and came alive, and god, she'd never seen a man look that full of life before. Was that what she did to him? It was breathtaking. 

"God Buffy, you..." 

"No more talky," Buffy shushed him as she slid out of her skirt and sodden panties. They went in a heap on the carpet. "Strip." 

"Whatever you want, pet," Spike eagerly agreed, reaching for his shirt and undressing himself in record time. 

The ambient street light that filled the Summer's living room cast blue shadows over their bodies as they came together finally, Spike helping Buffy rip off her shirt as she sank onto her knees on either side of his thighs, straddling him and holding him close.

"I don't wanna ask, pet, but is this..." Spike murmured against her lips, a sliver of pain in his voice. "Is this what you want?" He didn't trust it, which Buffy supposed was fair, she barely trusted it either. She wanted to, though, and that had to count for something.

Buffy grabbed his shoulders and pressed him back against the sofa cushions, granting him a lingering kiss that left them both hazy and warm. She reached beneath her to grasp his cock, shivering in anticipation as she felt it's length in her fingers.

"It's my birthday," she replied roughly, pushing the head of his cock between her slickness. "Don't second guess me on my birthday." 

"Yes, mam," Spike agreed breathily.

"You know, I've never done it this way..." Buffy murmured into the near darkness as she teased him, touching where they joined but refusing to lower her hips. 

"Nervous, love?" Spike's soft inquiry was shrouded by his moan of pleasure.

"No," Buffy assured him, finally sinking down slowly onto his length inch by agonizing inch. It took a moment before she could seat herself on his lap, but once she did it was... Buffy gasped roughly and tensed around Spike, threading her fingers trough the hair at the back of his head and gripping tightly. Spike put his arms around her and held on fervently, his breath coming out in desperate, needy pants against her neck.

"I've, oh god, I've always wanted to do it this way," Buffy explained in a single breath, raising her hips to begin again. 

"God, Buffy," Spike groaned, one hand fisting into her loose hair and the other taking purchase on her ass, guiding her in her movements. "Such a good girl, riding me," his voice rumbled deep in his chest as he purred his encouragement. Buffy clenched hard as his voice sent frissons of pleasure down her spine. 

"Am I - " Buffy moaned as Spike gripped her ass harder, hard enough to bruise. "Am I hurting you?" There was a hint of anxiousness to her voice, and her pace began to slow a little. She'd never done it this way because she'd never been confident she wouldn't break Riley. 

Spike grabbed her hand and encouraged her to scrape her nails down his chest. With a wicked smile that set Buffy's heart racing, Spike replied. "Oh baby, you can go as hard as you want. You could only ever hurt me good." Spike kissed her nose. "Promise." 

"Okay..." Buffy rested her forehead against his. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Alrig-" Spike's voice was cut off into a strangled moan as Buffy began pounding him in earnest, her core a vice around his cock. Spike's eyes rolled back in his head as he submitted to her enrapturous punishment, the litany of swear words coming from his lips a mess of nonsense as Buffy fucked him into the cushions. 

"Fuck!" Spike shouted, holding on for dear life as the legs of the sofa gave way and they plunged to the floor. Buffy came down hard as they fell, seating herself suddenly on his cock. She cried out, her head falling back as white hot sparks clouded her vision. Buffy was coming and she felt like she'd never stop. 

"Spi - ike!" Buffy begged, her voice pained as she bucked erratically. 

"I got you," Spike promised, his voice hoarse and choppy. "Fuck, Buffy I'm -" 

His arms came around her fully, holding her close to his chest as his thrusting became insistent. He released deep within her with a shout, biting with blunt human teeth to muffle the noise. Buffy followed him, her thighs quaking and her head swimming as she collapsed against Spike's chest. 

For a moment, all Buffy could do was try to breathe. Spike breathed too, gasping lungfuls of air as he petted her back slowly. He was murmuring in the top of her hair, barely audible and desperately amorous. 

"My sweet Buffy, love you, I love you, I do..." He kissed the top of her head one or twice, then continued, his voice so quiet that it almost sounded like nonsense. 

" _Spike_ ," Buffy sobbed quietly into his chest. She felt wrung out, like she'd run a marathon and they hadn't even left the couch. How could sex feel that way? Why had it never been that way before? Why had no one ever been like that with her? "I..." 

Her stomach chose that moment to protest the lack of ice cream cake. 

"Hungry?" Spike chuckled shakily, still gently petting her hair. "Bloody hell, that cake is probably liquid by now." 

"We'll get it," Buffy sighed, nuzzling into his chest. "In a minute. Give me a minute." 

"All the time in the world for you, love." 

-

They eventually got to that cake. It was a bit melted, but neither of them minded. It went well with the movies they'd rented and a good blanket wrapped around them, although the sofa was now three inches below the TV now that it was broken. 

"See, told you the bint didn't deserve Hugh..." Spike turned from the tv to find Buffy asleep against his chest, beginning to drool against his collarbone. The sight melted the last iced over corner of his dead heart and nearly set it back to beating. They'd really had a good, no, a great day. She'd had a good time, from what he gathered, and that's all that mattered to him. 

Spike gently laid Buffy down on the sofa and wrapped the blanket around her more securely, kissing her forehead for good measure. 

"Happy birthday, Slayer," he murmured softly before clicking off the last light in the living room. 

He'd let her sleep, and hope to god that this birthday magic that brought them together stayed through til morning. 

-

Buffy stretched, yawning as her eyes fluttered open and she came to. The first thing she saw upon waking were the pop tart wrappers scattered on the coffee table and a pair of big, black boots next to the tv cabinet. 

Spike's boots.

Before she could panic, the smell of frying bacon and coffee wafted almost cartoonishly to her nose and Buffy immediately perked up. Her stomach growled in hungry protest to being ignored and Buffy could hardly disagree. 

She got up with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, hobbling into the kitchen to find Spike sans shirt in the kitchen over the skillet, sliding bacon off and onto a plate. Like guh, he was muscly and his hair was mussed and there was  breakfast . 

"Mornin' pet, sleep well?" Spike smiled at her as he slid a plate of said delicious breakfast over to the bar. Buffy sat down and grabbed the waiting coffee mug first, and she would have felt bad about how much better he was at brewing coffee if she wasn't drinking said better coffee right at that moment. 

"Mmm, good," she replied between sips. Once the caffeine began to work it's magic, Buffy realized she was clad in a large black shirt she certainly didn't own. "Did you dress me?" 

"Well," Spike cleared his throat. "I figured you wouldn't want to be in your birthday suit if one of your nosy mates came busting in the door, as they usually tend to." 

"Thanks," Buffy murmured between bites of bacon. "I... that was smart. And thoughtful... and..." Her voice petered out as the night's activities came back to her. The cowboy bar, the icecream cake, the pitstop for pop tarts and movie rentals, and... and they had sex, right out there in the living room. Good sex, incredible actually.

Spike put the pan down and turned to her with a tense scrunch to his face. "Buffy, I can see you're thinkin', over thinking more like, and I just..." He looked down dejectedly. "Well, not like I got a right to push you, but I just wanted you to know that last night, the whole night. It meant something to me." 

"Yeah," Buffy agreed, looking him over. He looked so ready for rejection, so ready to head out the door if she pushed, but did she want to push? Her dating life had been a string of misfortunes and her birthdays had been almost literally cursed and yet this vamp had undone all of that with simple good intentions, if that was even believable. Last night had been... amazing, fun, happy... Buffy kept trying to move past that word, happy, but her throat kept closing up and her eyes kept stinging at the thought. Last night was the first time in a long, long time she'd felt happy and like herself. She'd been carefree but honest, and all the while Spike had listened, had reveled in her enjoyment and commiserated with her pains, and... hell, damn it to hell, but...

"It did for me too," she replied softly, setting her coffee down. "Mean something, I mean. It was..." She shuffled towards Spike, anxious and unsure but kind of feeling desperate to remind herself of how happy she'd been last night. Of how good they were together.

And Spike was more than happy to oblige. 

"Oh, Buffy," he said softly as he pulled her into his arms. "I don't rightly know what we're to do, but..." 

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked softly, looking up into his hopeful eyes. "We do what makes us happy." Buffy then kissed him gently, lingering on his soft lips before tucking her head onto his shoulder. "You make me happy." 


End file.
